<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>when it comes to love (i want a slow hand) by Fictropes</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28115364">when it comes to love (i want a slow hand)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictropes/pseuds/Fictropes'>Fictropes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:14:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28115364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictropes/pseuds/Fictropes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And there it is, the refusal of anything in return. This is just for Dan and it always will be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Howell/Phil Lester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>when it comes to love (i want a slow hand)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawritsamehh/gifts">Rawritsamehh</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>happy one day early birthday amy!!!!!! thanku for being one of the first people to be so kind and welcoming to me, it really made a huge difference in how i am like so willing to interact now with everyone ;_; cos you made me feel comfy enough to do so. You're such a wonderful person and its always such a joy to talk to you&lt;3333. you're also SUPER talented and i would die for all your fics. ty ly bb.</p><p>and due to me and amy being like grrrr smut hard to write but good to read,.. i thought it only correct i brave my fear of writing badly LOL and give a present of just like 1000 of sex. sooooo here we go? all go read amys fics also :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Phil’s <em>good</em> at this— can give it to Dan whenever he’s in the mood. This slow drag of <em>everything</em>, this too much at once, this you’re going to destroy me because i’ve<em> asked </em>for it. He’ll take Dan apart piece by piece, leave him a mess amongst high thread count sheets.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wants it slow, sometimes. Wants all the buildup with none of the instant relief, wants to feel every nerve-ending ignite until he’s begging—until he’s capable of nothing <em>but </em>begging. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s sweating, can feel it on every inch of his skin, dripping down his temples. Ends up tasting it, too, presses it into Phil’s mouth with his own tongue. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck, there.” And that’s the mistake, that’s what Dan always does wrong. He asks for slow, then he tries to speed it up. He tries to tell Phil where to touch, how to touch, and all it does it make Phil stop doing the thing that felt so fucking good. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Phil just laughs, deep and amused into Dan’s neck—takes a second to ruin him there, too. Teeth against skin, nothing much— apart from it’s too much combined with the way he’s got two fingers in him. “You ever gonna learn?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No.” Dan huffs, pinches at Phil’s skin because he’s a dick— a bastard who is doing what Dan wants so fucking<em> well. </em>“I’m so wet, christ.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mhm.” Phil hums, thumb slicks against the too much lube they’d used. Dan can hear the noises, the squelching, the sounds that shouldn’t be turning him on so fucking much. But the knowledge that it’s Phil’s fingers, that they’re pressed so deep inside him— it’s working, making his brain light up. “You want me here for ages, don’t you? You whine and moan, but you want this, you begged for this when I tried to make you come an hour ago.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had tried, it’d started out as a quick thing. Phil had shoved his hands down Dan’s pyjamas pants, tried to get him off with that practised ease he had, tried to get him off by whispering filthy things in his ear. But Dan had been in a mood, given Phil two minutes before he rolled over, asked for more.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And now they’re here. Dan sat in Phil’s lap, Phil hard in his underwear but never asking for anything. Always<em> giving. </em>He’d said before that watching Dan like this was enough, that he buried away the noises, the faces, the way Dan asked so nicely and used it later. He’d fuck his own hand to the memory of how Dan looked when he finally gave in, told Phil to stop with all the slow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I change your mind?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you want to?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dan pauses, and it always gets to this point. This grand ultimatum, the one Phil knows won’t be the end because Dan always wants more. Today isn’t any different, it never is—this is the same song and dance as every time before, one they both live for. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Phil just smiles, kisses where Dan’s dimple would be if he weren’t concentrating so hard on not falling apart. “Thought not.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dan wants to be snarky, to say something that’d put an end to all this— have Phil flip him over, fuck him, eat him out—do something other than this slow and torturous drag of two fingers. But he doesn’t at all, he likes that Phil is so eager to give up all this time just to make Dan happy. He laps up the attention and he puts on a show. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tried that one before.” Phil gives a little more than before, though— he doesn’t move. Doesn’t do anything but draw Dan into another kiss that tastes like his own desperation. He thinks he’s fucking spectacular at kissing, the one thing in his life he can say he’s good at. He remembers Phil coming in his pants on his parents sofa in 2009, just Dan’s tongue in his mouth and barely anything else at all. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dan.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mhm?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not to ruin the mood, but my whole wrist… and hand situation? It’s cramping really badly.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dan snorts, presses his palms against Phil’s shoulders as he pulls off—and he doesn’t whine at the loss, apart from that he does. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where’d you want me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Back.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dan’s not slow when it comes to this part, complies to Phil’s every request with quick motions—with an eager willingness to please. “Like this?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah.” Phil crawls between his legs. “Like that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And this is where everything speeds up, this is where Phil starts to slip—can’t help himself when Dan keeps making noises like that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wanna fuck me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit.” Phil sighs, presses his head to where Dan’s hip meets his thigh. “No.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“No?”</span><br/>
<br/>
“No, this is about you.” And then there’s mouth, there’s Phil’s warm fucking mouth wrapped around the head of his dick.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dan could cry, might already be crying. Been pushed to the edge over and over again, nearly fallen apart more times than he can count. And Phil has been so good, stopped himself every single time—let Dan have this. He feels physically wrung out, heart constantly pushed up against his ribs, breath never able to settle from the constant catching. It feels right. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Phil, fuck.” Dan wants to pull, to tug, to curl his fingers into Phil’s hair and stop it but he can’t— he can’t because he doesn’t want to anymore. Instead he wants this, the perfect combination of Phil’s mouth and the two fingers that have made their way back inside of him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s sloppy, barely any rhythm, both of them exhausted— it’s a dream. Phil’s tongue wet and messy on the underside of his dick, other hand taking what his mouth can’t, fingers fucking him in a way that’s making Dan feel a bit insane. Surely nothing should feel this good, the human body shouldn’t be capable of feeling this much pleasure— but that doesn’t make sense, Dan is feeling it right now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Close, close. Fuck, fuck, please.” And Phil knows it’s different now, this is Dan properly asking for it. None of the performance. It’s all real, it’s all hips struggling to keep still because he could be fucking up into Phil’s mouth. It’s hand resisting the urge to push Phil’s head down. It’s his fingers curling into the sheets, back arching up off the bed, a too loud noise escaping his mouth as he comes down Phil’s throat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And it’s over, just like that. Apart from it’s never just like that when they do this. Dan leaves the fucking planet, doesn’t come back down to earth for another five minutes. And when he comes back down it’s always to Phil cleaning him up, a wet cloth over his skin, a gentle kiss to his forehead. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You good?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mhm, yeah.” Dan grabs his hand, presses a kiss right to the centre of his palm. “What’d you want.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This is part of it too, because Dan knows exactly what is coming next. Phil will kiss him again, for too long, enough that Dan starts to think maybe this time he’ll ask for something. He backs off, plays with the curls that lay half damp on Dan’s forehead. “I’m good.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And there it is, the refusal of anything in return. This is just for Dan and it always will be.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://fictropes.tumblr.com/post/637692631588159488/when-it-comes-to-love-i-want-a-slow-hand">if you wanna rebloggy on tumblr :)</a>
</p><p>as alwaaaays lemme know your thoughts ;_; (this was v scary to write LOL god smut .... how do frequent e writers do it) </p><p>ANDDD AGAINNN HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMY&lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>